


Playback

by Kagedtiger



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Crack, M/M, Not exactly fluff but maybe as close as this series can get to it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24907726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kagedtiger/pseuds/Kagedtiger
Summary: In which The Archivist is just Not Getting It with regards to Martin's feelings, and the tape recorders decide to take matters into their own hands. Er, spools? (Spoilers for season 4 and the end of season 3.)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 9
Kudos: 107





	Playback

**Author's Note:**

> I always felt that Jon's sudden interest in Martin's feelings in season 4 seems to come on a little strong considering he is such an absolute garbage person in terms of dealing with any kind of human emotions, and up to this point he's been fairly consistently dismissive of Martin. Also I love how Martin talks to the tape recorders, and I found this particular head-canon hilarious, so I thought I'd write it up. Once we learn what's actually up with the tape recorders in the series (this was written after the airing of MAG 171) I imagine this fic will either become entirely obsolete or utterly hilarious, or both. So look forward to that, I guess.

The tape recorders like Martin, inasmuch as the tape recorders can really like anything. They are not, strictly speaking, sentient. But Martin is nice to them, and treats them almost like people. Maybe it’s a Lonely thing, that objects somehow feel more... human around him. Who doesn’t like being treated like a person, like someone worth talking to? The tape recorders don’t exactly have feelings, but... they want him to be happy.

This is why Jon’s behavior is especially frustrating, not that the tape recorders can, strictly speaking, be frustrated either. But if the tape recorders are bad at having feelings, they are surpassed only by the poor idiot archivist, who doesn’t seem to understand any feeling that’s not injected directly into his nervous system via a statement. The man desperately needs a nudge in the right direction.

The thing about tape recorders is, they don’t just record. They can also play back.

\---

Jon is sitting in his office, staring blearily at some paperwork without really seeing it, when suddenly a tape recorder on his desk snaps on. Martin’s voice emanates from it, angry and defiant. _“Well, I hope you’ve got something better than that pathetic dig at my feelings for Jon.”_

The recorder has shut off again before Jon has recovered enough from his startlement to reach for it. When he does, the tape recorder looks just the same as any of a dozen others he’s pulled from various places around the office recently. The main difference is just that it’s not recording. 

Curious, Jon hits play on the tape. What he’s hearing seems to be a conversation between Martin and Elias. After a moment, he places it; this would have been when Martin enacted his plan to get Elias arrested. Of course. He’s heard this one before, although honestly he’d only half paid attention to it at the time, since he’d already known the general strokes of what had happened. 

He’s not sure why the tape suddenly started playing. In general, however, when tapes have spontaneously appeared around him, they’ve held something important. Something he needed to learn and focus on. Brow furrowed, Jon rewinds and listens to the recorded conversation again. But he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be gleaning from this. Something about how Elias was arrested? Something about Martin’s plan? Maybe it’s a reminder that Martin knows what he’s doing, that Jon needs to trust him. Martin has pulled off successful plans before. Who’s to say that he won’t do so again?

\---

It’s two days later when a tape recorder suddenly pops on again, this time with a different tape that Jon has definitely _not_ heard before. It’s Martin’s voice again, and he sounds incredibly distressed. _“We really need you, Jon. Everything’s- It’s bad. I- I don’t know how much longer we can do this. We- I need you. And I- I know that you’re not– I know there’s no way to–”_ He pauses, and John can hear the shakiness of Martin’s voice in his breathing. _“But we need you, Jon. Jon, please, just– Please. If- If there’s anything left in you that can still see us, or, or some power that you’ve still got, or, or, or, something, anything, please! Please. I- I can’t-”_

Again, the tape just shuts itself off. Jon stares at it a moment. When was this recorded? Martin seemed to be talking to him, but clearly Jon wasn’t actually there, because he didn’t seem to be expecting a response and Jon doesn’t remember the conversation at all. Unless... oh. Yes. Of course. This must have been when he was in his coma, or near-death, or whatever medically inconceivable state he’d been stuck in. Poor Martin.

Jon picks up the tape player, but doesn’t press anything, just stares at the cheap black plastic. Martin had sounded so sad. Is this a reminder of how much the archive staff really needs him? It certainly didn’t seem to provide any usable logistical information. But still... Jon rewinds the tape and listens to it carefully from the beginning. He is not a fan of what he hears.

\---

Jon decides he needs to talk to Martin. His assistant is clearly avoiding him, but Jon isn’t going to sit quiet about what had sounded like some kind of incredibly dire offer from Peter. Whatever it was, maybe Martin can handle it. But he’d sounded so _helpless_ on the tape. Jon finds himself desperate to check on him, make sure he’s alright.

Easier said than done. It seems Martin is surprisingly good at avoiding Jon, considering that prior to their most recent near-death escapade, Jon had hardly been able to get rid of him, even just to find a little peace and quiet. When Jon does finally manage to get Martin alone their conversation is stilted and awkward, Martin clearly desperate to be rid of him.

Martin hasn’t said more than two sentences to him, specifically “Hello Jon,” and “I really should be getting back to work.” Jon stalls as much as he can, fumbling about for some kind of excuse to keep Martin from dashing back down the hall for just a little bit longer. Can he order him to stay and talk? He’s still technically Martin’s boss, isn’t he? Sort of? Or is Martin just directly Lukas’s assistant now? Jon bites his lip, trying to think of something, _anything_ to say.

Beside them, on an end table beneath a portrait of some previous archivist, a tape recorder turns on. They both jump as awkwardly-upbeat pop music starts suddenly blaring from the thing, the lyrics declaring, _“I’m gonna love ya, ‘til the lonely’s gone, gone gone go~one. I’m gonna hear ya whenever you call my name, cross my heart-”_ before suddenly cutting off as Martin reaches over and hits the stop button. His face is crimson. “Excuse me,” he mutters, pushing away from Jon and fleeing down the corridor. 

Jon sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

\---

He's alone when the next one happens, sitting cross-legged on the floor by the heavy metal filing cabinet, trying to file paperwork. He feels like he's never not dealing with paperwork. Unless he's reading statements. Or fleeing for his life. ...On second thought, maybe paperwork is fine.

Muffled behind the filing cabinet, but still clearly audible, come the faint strains of music. _"One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do..."_ John swears and stands up, banging his head painfully on an open drawer. He grumbles as he tries desperately to reach behind the cabinet for the recorder, but it's really far back there.

"What?" Jon whines at it, pressed against the wall with his arm stretched as far as he can get it behind the cabinet. "What are you trying to tell me, you bloody nuisance?" The music continues in lieu of an answer until Jon finally manages to grab the thing and switch it off triumphantly. 

As he’s holding the thing, the same music pops on again behind him. He spins around to see another tape recorder on his desk, solemnly warbling _“Two can be as bad as one, it’s the loneliest number since the number one.”_ Jon’s jaw clenches. He knows he’s lonely. He knows Martin is lonely, if that’s what the tapes are trying to tell him. He doesn’t need a reminder.

He turns off the second recorder with a scowl, placing the first one down on the desk next to it. “I get it,” he says out loud. “You can shut up. I’m lonely, fine. Is that all you have to say?”

From a potted plant near the door, the music starts up again.

By the fifth tape recorder he’s found in the room, Jon decides to just let the music play out to the end. 

\---

Martin is researching something called the Extinction. A potential new power on the rise, the existential dread of the end of humanity. Not that Jon knows this from talking to him. Martin has gotten harder and harder to find, at least when Jon is trying. Even Knowing where he is doesn’t really seem to work as well anymore. Just about the only time he sees Martin these days is if they accidentally run into each other in the little breakroom kitchen, or happen to pass each other in the halls.

Jon is definitely _not_ staking out the kitchen, waiting for Martin to come by and make tea. No, he’s just... really been craving a change of scenery. Get out of the office a little bit, walk around. His legs are getting a bit stiff, is all. A walk to the breakroom and back is good for him.

He does, eventually, manage to run into Martin while the other man is waiting for the kettle to boil. Martin’s eyes widen and it’s clear that he wants to flee, but he seems reluctant to leave without making his tea first.

Jon stops in the doorway, uncertain. For all that he’s been checking the kitchen every half hour, he did not quite think ahead to what he would do if they actually ran into each other. He wants to grab Martin by the shoulders and shake him, insist that he give up this strange plan with Lukas, come back. He wants to tell Martin that he heard the tape of him crying at Jon’s bedside, that he’s sorry, that he didn’t mean to leave him alone.

Instead he goes to one of the chairs at the little plastic breakroom table and sits down, not saying anything. Martin remains standing at the counter, watching the kettle on the stove.

“Water’s almost ready, if you’re here for some tea,” Martin mutters.

“Ah, thank you. Yes,” Jon responds, and then lapses back into silence. God, he’s so shite at this. How do normal humans start a conversation? Asking about the weather? He feels like even before he started turning into some kind of eye-themed monstrosity he didn’t really know. He wants to ask how Martin’s doing, if he’s okay, but that’s always gotten him brushed off, lately, and he wants Martin to stick around.

What would Tim have done? Tim was incredibly social. Tim knew how to talk to people. Tim would have had an anecdote, or a joke to break the tension. Even when Tim wasn’t exactly talking to him, even at his most angry, Tim never had trouble knowing what to say.

Jon clears his throat awkwardly. “I found... I found five tape recorders in my office the other day, can you believe?”

Martin hesitates for a moment, as if unsure whether he should engage with this, but apparently he deems it harmless enough, because eventually he responds, “Someone must think you have something incredibly important to say.”

Jon mentally cheers at having gotten a response, but tries not to let this glee show, lest it spook Martin. “They’re not even recording. They’ve been playing music lately. I have no idea what’s up with them.”

Something like the ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of Martin’s mouth. Jon can’t help but think that only a month ago it would have been a full grin. “Maybe the Eye’s developing a sense of humor.”

“Maybe.” Jon wipes his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants and stands. He starts to approach Martin but stops a few feet away when Martin visibly flinches. Jon puts his hands in his pockets, not wanting to accidentally reach out. “Martin, I-” he starts.

_“Sha-la-la-la-la-la my, oh my, looks like the boy's too shy, ain't gonna kiss the girl,”_ Martin and Jon both wince simultaneously. Martin turns an astonishing shade of bright red that Jon would never have imagined could color a human face with the blood still on the inside. They both look around for the source of the sudden blaring music. Eventually Jon spots the tape recorder on top of the fridge and makes a dive for it, but he’s not quite tall enough to grab it. It continues to play as he goes for a chair, as though mocking him, “ _Sha-la-la-la-la-la, ain't that sad, it's such a shame, too bad, you're gonna miss the girl. Go on and kiss the girl.”_

By the time Jon manages to grab hold of the device and switch it off, Martin has long since fled, abandoning his tea. The kettle is just beginning to whistle as Jon steps down off the chair and turns back to the stove. He takes it off the burner morosely.

\---

Jon presses the record button on the tape recorder. He’s not entirely sure why except that, well, it feels more like they’re really _listening_ to him when they’re recording, and he feels stupid enough already. He glares at the little plastic thing as its wheels begin to whir.

“Enough,” he tells it firmly. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I draw the line at harassing Martin. What did you really hope to accomplish, honestly? Is there something I’m missing? Something important? Or are you just trying to make my life miserable?”

Jon leans back in his chair with his arms crossed. “Disney? _Really?_ How are you even _getting_ these songs? Did someone leave the world’s most eclectic mixtape in Artifact Storage? Did you find a tunnel underneath a record store and start recording?”

There is, predictably, no response from the tape recorder. Jon feels marginally more idiotic, which was already a pretty high bar. He can feel his ears heating as he thinks about the look on Martin’s face when the music had come on, the embarrassed squeak he’d made.

“What are you trying to do?” he asks again, quieter. “If you want me to kiss Martin, you’re out of luck, honestly. I don’t kiss people, as a rule, and even if I did-”

_“No chance, no way, I won’t say it no no,”_ comes a sudden low-fi voice behind him, a recorded woman’s voice, followed by a chorus of replies: _“You swoon, you sigh, why deny it oh-ooh.”_ Jon reaches behind him for the tape recorder and turns it off just as the first voice says, _“It’s too cliche, I won’t say I’m in love.”_

Jon drops the tape recorder like it bit him. “I am _not_ in love with Martin!” he insists to the now two tape recorders on his desk. “So-so you can just stop that right now! Sure, I mean, obviously I worry about him. He’s the closest person I have left here and I...” Jon trails off as he mentally goes back through the recordings the tapes have been playing him recently. In particular, he has a sudden mental flash of the sound of Martin crying at his bedside, the desperation in his voice.

“Oh no,” Jon whispers. “Is Martin in love with _me_ ? But he _can’t_ be, that’s-” Jon puts a hand over his mouth. It would explain a lot, to be honest. And to be fair, it’s not like Jon doesn’t care about him too. Obviously. He desperately wants to make sure Martin’s okay. If anything happened to him, Jon would, he would...

“Oh _no_ ,” Jon mutters again, sinking his face fully into his hands. He does a quick internal survey: yes, the thought of passionate kissing still makes him as profoundly uncomfortable as it always has. But he’d learned with Georgie that the occasional light peck on the cheek or even lips is okay, as long as there are clearly no intentions of going further, and when he makes himself think of Martin in that context, he finds... well, he finds that the thought is not as terrible as he would have imagined even a year ago. As a matter of fact, it’s kind of...

Jon glares at the tape recorders. Although they’re silent, he gets the distinct impression that they’re laughing at him.


End file.
